


Just Friends

by buzzbuzz



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Just a typical high school AU, M/M, Maybe Mingyu moving in on Hansol's boy??, Oblivious Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Pining Boo Seungkwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-25 20:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzbuzz/pseuds/buzzbuzz
Summary: Hansol met Seungkwan when he was 5, and that, as they say, was that.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

Hansol met Seungkwan when he was 5, and that, as they say, was that. 

If you want slightly more detail, Hansol’s pregnant mother, Annie, recently transplanted from New York City, started crying abruptly in the playground one day when Hansol was playing innocently on the swings. The other mothers pretended to not see the weeping Western woman and avoided her gasping sobs. 

Seungkwan’s mother understood desperation. Recently widowed, with one forthright daughter and an even more precocious son, Migyong recognized the sadness pouring from the hunched woman as she swallowed her tears and pushed her son on the swing. 

Quietly, tentatively, Migyong reached out and in hesitant English asked, “Okay?” 

Hansol ended up at Seungkwan’s apartment that day, sitting on the carpeted floor as Seungkwan explained the hierarchy of his favourite legos in excruciating detail. Hansol ended up at Seungkwan’s apartment most days that year, and the next, and so on and so forth as his mother grappled with moving countries and changing languages with a mostly absent partner. Seungkwan welcomed Hansol like he had always been a part of the boisterous Boo clan, part of the singing and playing and love expressed openly and constantly. 

When Hansol went home, back to his apartment three floors down and two buildings west, he would talk to his baby sister like Seungkwan’s older sister talked to him, answering Minka’s gurgles and coos with patience, care, and devotion. He would hug his mother like he saw Seungkwan wrap his arms around his mother, and kiss her cheek in an echo of the loud smack Seungkwan would give frequently. When his father got home, he would become small and quiet and retreat to his room. Sometimes Hansol would think about how Suengkwan would act with a father. He didn’t think Seungkwan missed having a dad though. 

By the time Hansol and Seungkwan were ten, they were part of the same noun. Hansolandseungkwan or Seungkwanandhansol. Always together, never apart. 

Also when Hansol was ten, he recognized that he and Seungkwan were different people for the first time. 

He had always known this, obviously, but they had always huddled so close to one another, watched the same anime and read the same books that he had not fully comprehended that they might have different interests. The most Hansol understood about their differences was that Seungkwan was braver than him, louder and more sure in what he believed in. 

When Hansol forgot his lunch at school, Seungkwan would share his. 

When Hansol would daze off in class, and not understand what his teacher was asking him when he snapped back to focus, Seungkwan would loudly whisper the answer for him from two desks away.

When some kids would rudely ask Hansol where he was from, Seungkwan would scold them vigorously. “Where are your manners?” he would exclaim, tugging Hansol closer to his side, pressing Hansol’s face away from the accusatory gazes. “Where are you from, yah? Not from Seoul with that accent,” he would sniff, dramatically rolling his eyes at the villains.

Seungkwan spent three days a week at Hansol’s until dinner time, waiting for his mother to come home from work. Hansol spent another three days a week at Seungkwan’s with his mother and sister until after dinner, because they couldn’t stand returning to their empty apartment, waiting for Hansol’s dad to return or not from work.

Seungkwan’s older sister, Miyoung, taught Hansol how to swim, laughing as he and Seungkwan swallowed gallons of water as she watched carefully from the steps of the apartment complex’s pool in the long sticky summer they turned seven. Miyoung had carried Hansol’s baby sister Minka home while she slept so many times that Hansol thought Miyoung could walk blindfolded to the Chwe’s apartment across the grassy common space.

When Hansol was ten, his second-best friend, Hajun, called Seungkwan gay. Hansol didn’t really know what this meant. He could tell that it was supposed to be an insult, Hajun rolling his eyes and glaring at Seungkwan as he said it. But all Seungkwan had done was get excited when his favourite song started playing on the radio. Did Hajun not understand that the Wonder Girls were superstars, destined for fame and fortune beyond the small borders of South Korea? Was Hajun unaware, as Hansol had once been, that they were blessed to be born at the same time that the Wonder Girls existed? 

Hansol thought that was probably the problem. Hajun just needed Seungkwan to explain why he was wrong.

Hansol smiled, uncomfortable, at Hajun and said nothing. He didn’t want to say anything incorrect about the Wonder Girls.

But, as it turned out, this was the wrong response. Hajun kept on talking about Seungkwan when he wasn’t with them. Started making weird comments about the way he walked, talked, dressed. 

One day, when Seungkwan was busy writing down a series of rules for the game of imagination he and Hansol were playing, Hansol asked Miyoung what Hajun meant. What gay meant and why it was bad. 

Miyoung was older than Seungkwan and Hansol. She was the prettiest girl Hansol knew, with long black hair and big dark eyes, and the smartest too, with straight A’s like Seungkwan and a rotating pile of books next to her bed. She doted on Seungkwan, stroking his hair when he flopped on the ground next to her, and feeding him small bites of whatever treats they were given before dinner time. 

Miyoung was a teenager, in high school, and as such, an expert on everything. Hansol had never known anything Miyoung didn’t already know. She loved Hansol as well, he could tell. She let him drape over her pink bedspread with Seungkwan, reading stories aloud and singing along to the radio as she did homework at her desk in the afternoons.

Hansol had never seen Miyoung angry before that day. Sure, he had seen her annoyed at him and Seungkwan, rolling her eyes as they talked loudly over her dramas, exasperatedly shoving Seungkwan away from the fridge as he tried to get the last cold iced tea. 

He had even seen Miyoung cry, once, when Seungkwan’s mother shouted at her after Seungkwan broke his arm climbing high on a chair stacked on the dining room table to try and reach the candied tangerines for Hansol. Miyoung was supposed to be watching them, but she had been on the phone with her friends, ignoring the two young boys. Hansol had tried to explain that it was his fault, but Miyoung and Migyong refused to listen to his hysterical claims, yelling at each other over Hansol and Seungkwan’s sobs. 

He had drawn a giant sunflower, Seungkwan’s favourite, on the pale white cast when Seungkwan returned home from the hospital. He had slept with Seungkwan, cosy in the small bed, for a week, terrified that Seungkwan would somehow break the other arm if he left. Finally, Minka, crying that she missed her brother, dragged him away from Seungkwan’s bedside. 

Miyoung was angry right now, though. Her lips were pressed together, thin and white, and her voice was low. She was looking at Hansol like she had never looked at him before. 

“Who said this shit?” she asked Hansol. Hansol could feel his hands sweat, his pulse jump. Miyoung never swore. Miyoung had never been loud and mean to Hansol, but he could tell she was feeling mean right now. 

“You don’t listen to this, okay? Sollie, this is bullshit. You don’t need to know about this. Anyone who says this about Seungkwan, or anyone, is a bad person.”

Hansol nodded frantically. Miyoung caught his gaze. 

“Anyone else says this, you tell me. You tell me, and you don’t tell Seungkwan, and you never talk to these people again. Okay?”

“So it’s bad?” he asks, eyes locked on hers. Miyoung sighed, eyebrows scrunching together as she thought. 

“No,” she said, reaching out to hold his hand. Her palm is dry against Hansol’s clammy grasp. “It’s not bad to be gay. It just means you love boys. People saying gay like it’s a bad thing are bad people.”

Hansol nodded slowly. He only loved one boy – Seungkwan – and he couldn’t see that as a bad thing. Maybe Hajun had never had a friend like Seungkwan before. Hajun must be wrong. He had thought that, but now he knew. Miyoung said so. 

Hansol turned away from Hajun the next day during recess. He walked toward Seungkwan instead, away from the group of boys ready to play soccer together, and towards the small grove of trees where Seungkwan sat with his snack. Seungkwan smiled broadly at Hansol, and several of Hansol’s other friends followed him to sit next to Seungkwan. They spent their time trading chips and drinks and talking excitedly about the latest episode of their favourite cartoon. Seungkwan was pressed against Hansol, his shoulders shuddering Hansol’s when he shook with laughter. 

Hajun never said anything else about Seungkwan to Hansol again, and when they moved from elementary to middle school, Hajun didn’t follow them, instead going to a school across the city. 

By the time Hansol was sixteen, he was used to people calling Seungkwan gay. He guesses he couldn’t call them liars, because Seungkwan had told Hansol when he was fifteen, crying nonstop with heaving breaths and red cheeks and puffy eyes, that he thought he might like boys instead of girls. That, actually, Hansol, Seungkwan knew for certain that he like-liked boys instead of girls. Hansol had held Seungkwan until he stopped crying, told him that was chill, and asked him if he wanted some ginger tea to help settle his stomach. 

Seungkwan started crying again, called Hansol a dumb boy, and clung to his chest as Hansol hugged him. Seungkwan had already told his mum and sister, obviously, but Hansol was the first real person Seungkwan had said the words out loud to. 

Hansol wasn’t sure if it was the right reaction, but he felt kind of proud about that. 

By the time they were fifteen, Seungkwan and Hansol both had large groups of other friends, interested in similar activities and generally more on the same wavelength than Seungkwan and Hansol were. Seungkwan’s friends were funny and infectious and smart, involved in a billion after school activities, and constantly trying to be the loudest in any room at any given time. Hansol’s friends were more interested in music production than musicals, skate parks rather than student government, and very rarely raised their hands in class. Whenever the two groups were forced to interact, Hansol would be an uneasy mediator, connecting his introverted friends with Seungkwan’s extroverts, explaining their loud theatrics and declarations with small smiles. 

Sometimes, Hansol worried he was too tongue tied, too quiet and slow for Seungkwan. He had never thought this before, content to listen as Seungkwan talked enough for the both of them. He told Seungkwan things he felt were important, and although Seungkwan had sometimes rolled his eyes and asked Hansol to expand, please, on his thoughts, Seungkwan had never made Hansol think he wasn’t enough. Even when Seungkwan shrieked upon discovering Hansol never wore sunscreen, scolded Hansol thoroughly and declared Hansol would end up a withered old hag, a hag, Hansol, oh my god, how can you not even wear SPF 15??? Hansol knew that it came from a place of concern and love. A dramatic place of concern and love, but one he had known for years now.

It wasn’t until high school, when Seungkwan met people as exuberant and driven as he was that Hansol felt out of place. When Seokmin sung beautiful duets with Seungkwan, when Soonyoung shimmied his hips towards Seungkwan breathless with laughter, when Mingyu begged Seungkwan to join his cross-stitch club, Hansol wondered if maybe he had been holding Seungkwan back. 

Seungkwan never said anything to make Hansol think this. He and Hansol walked home together every day still, stopping off at the corner store to get drinks or ice creams, holding an extra for Minka while they waited for her to meet them. They would talk about their day in school, their classes, and their friends, and they let Minka talk the most as they held her hands on the walk home. Minka and Hansol would stay at Seungkwan’s until it got dark, doing homework and singing to the radio as they waited for Seungkwan’s mother to get home. They would talk on the phone with Miyoung if she called from university while they were there. Miyoung called Seungkwan every day, in between classes, on her way to her friends, as she studied. She asked Seungkwan about his other friends, about the classes Hansol wasn’t in. It wasn’t on purpose: Miyoung always asked Hansol and Minka about their lives too. But her questions sometimes made Hansol feel like he wasn’t an answer Seungkwan ever gave his sister. 

So it was nice, that’s all Hansol was saying, that Seungkwan still felt that he should be the first one to tell about being gay. It made him feel important, part of Seungkwan’s life in a tangible way. 

A year later, most people knew that Seungkwan was gay. He was one of the few out kids at their school, and the only reason he wasn’t relentlessly bullied was because of Seungkwan’s sister, Miyoung, who was still one of the smartest and prettiest girls to ever attend their high school. Or maybe it was because Seungkwan was the most charming and thoughtful friend any person would be lucky to have. Perhaps even it was because somehow Hansol had become a popular kid in the last year of their lives, and his extended shine protected Seungkwan. Hansol was never sure which factor held the most weight in the equation: he supposed that originally Miyoung held the most sway over the students, her legacy alive and well in their hallways. Seungkwan had never wanted for friends either, collecting people the same way others collected rare gems. But Hansol had to admit that his influence couldn’t be dismissed either.

Hansol had only ever gotten in a fight once, and it was when he had just turned sixteen, and it was because some boy in the locker room after soccer practice said he wanted Seungkwan to suck his dick just to see how it felt, and asked Hansol how good Seungkwan was at sucking dick. “You have to know,” he said, leering at Hansol. “What’s the point in having Seungkwan drool over you every day unless you get something in return?”

Instead of laughing, like he was supposed to, Hansol just drew back his fist and punched the boy square in the jaw. Hansol had almost been suspended before his mother intervened, talking to the principal about homophobia and bullying, and demanding repercussions for the other boy. Instead, Hansol only got a week of detentions, and the other boy got a giant bruise flowering on his right side. The boy also lost a lot of friends, as well, people who came up to Hansol in the hallway after his talk with the principal to bump fists and congratulate him on punching the boy. Seokmin had given Hansol a giant hug, clinging to his shoulders as he cried about how happy he was that Seungkwan had Hansol. 

Seungkwan had waited for Hansol at the gate of their apartment complex that night. He hadn’t said anything, which was unusual for Seungkwan, just held out his hand and held Hansol’s tightly as they walked slowly back to their apartments. They stopped by the pool, their favourite hangout place, as Seungkwan bit his lip and Hansol waited for Seungkwan to talk. It didn’t take long – it never did – before Seungkwan started speaking.

He wanted Hansol to know that even if Seungkwan was gay, he didn’t want Hansol like that. That Hansol was Seungkwan’s best friend, but that Seungkwan didn’t want to suck his dick. That nothing other people were saying was true, and that Seungkwan cared so much about Hansol, and how he didn’t want Hansol to get freaked out at all.

Hansol rolled his eyes at Seungkwan as he started to get a little hysterical, voice rising. 

“Duh,” Hansol said. “I think I would know otherwise.” He punched Seungkwan in the arm. Seungkwan sighed deeply, put upon by Hansol as always. “But,” he said, his voice small, his hands reaching for Hansol’s oversized shirt. “But we’re okay?” Seungkwan asked. 

Hansol smiled. “Of course,” he said. And, as far as Hansol was concerned, that was that. Seungkwanandhansol, best friends, totally platonic homies, forever.

Obviously Seungkwan wanted to suck Hansol’s dick. 

For fuck’s sake, Seungkwan had realised he was gay because of two reasons: the first, Minho and his silver hair and white dress shirt at the SHINee World V concert.

The second, a balmy summer day a few confusing weeks after Minho’s performance, when Hansol had waved to Seungkwan from the apartment pool, arms sun kissed and brown in the afternoon light. Hansol’s scrawny thirteen-year-old muscles moved beneath his skin, bunching and smoothing in slow motion, and Seungkwan felt something snap inside, felt himself become feverish and hot at the sight of his dorky best friend topless with swimming trunks on in the pool. 

So yes, if you had to know, Seungkwan had been maybe in love and definitely in lust with Hansol for years now. Not that Hansol had to know about it. And, honestly, not that Hansol would ever know about it, because Hansol was as straight as… a straight man, Seungkwan guessed, he couldn’t really think an any examples of anything that was purely straight metaphorically. Lines bent, roads curved, rulers could break. Straight men, however, would die talking about sex with women, Seungkwan was convinced.

But that didn’t mean anything. Just because Seungkwan sometimes thought about what it would be like to kiss Hansol didn’t mean that they couldn’t still be best friends. 

So what if Seungkwan dreamt about Hansol and woke up gasping with wet sheets? That didn’t mean anything if Seungkwan didn’t let it. Seungkwan worried enough that he was too much for Hansol – that Seungkwan was too loud, too emotional, that he sung too much, that he had too many friends that took up Seungkwan’s time. The possible romantic feelings that Seungkwan felt for Hansol was like the tip of the ice burg of behaviours that Seungkwan freaked out about alienating Hansol with.

Sometimes Seungkwan would feel so guilty about fantasising about Hansol that he would panic, hating himself, and his thoughts and desires for his best friend so much that he would work himself into a frenzy, crying in the shower and calling Miyoung on repeat, leaving frantic messages asking if he was a terrible person. Miyoung would always call back as Seungkwan sat exhausted against the floor of the bathroom, and tell him that there was nothing wrong with his feelings, that he couldn’t help them, that he wasn’t a bad person, of course he wasn’t, don’t even think that, Seungkwan, you are the most perfect brother and boy ever. 

Sometimes Miyoung would come home for the weekend and Seungkwan would curl up next to her in her bed like they were children again and tell her how bad he felt about wanting to see Hansol naked. Miyoung would stroke Seungkwan’s hair and press her lips against his ears and tell him softly that he needed to feel better about his feelings. She never suggested he tell Hansol how he felt, because that was an idea so outside the realm of possibility that Seungkwan could not even contemplate it. Instead, Miyoung would tell Seungkwan about her terrible crushes on her various friends, on her teachers, on even her friend’s boyfriends, to try and make Seungkwan feel better about his awful traitorous heart. 

So by the time Seungkwan was sixteen, he was used to ignoring the part of himself that warmed when Hansol smiled at him, that got excited when Hansol yawned and stretched his arms above his head and showed a slither of underwear and toned stomach. He ruthlessly crushed any and all possible feelings outside of general love and adoration for a best friend, and commanded a fierce protection of his relationship with Hansol, governed by strict rules and behaviours. 

Neither Hansol or Seungkwan had any reason to think that their friendship would change.


	2. Chapter 2

Seungkwan stared critically at himself in the mirror, pursing his lips as he posed to the left, and then the right again. Well. There wasn’t much he could do to make this drab school uniform look fashion forward, but he had tried his best for the first day of his last year of high school. His white shirt was neatly ironed, French tucked into his black slacks that he had tastefully cuffed above his brand-new black shoes. No makeup was allowed at school, a true travesty, but Seungkwan had a small amount of shiny gloss accentuating his pouty lips. He tugged slightly on one strand of his black hair, carefully moving the hairs minutely to one side. 

“Good enough,” he mumbled to himself. Seungkwan was trying to be kinder to himself, he really was, because it was just such a bad vibe to constantly hate seeing yourself reflected in mirrors and windows. 

But it was hard, Seungkwan mused, to feel good about yourself when your best friend had grown five inches over the summer, filled out his bony body, and somehow become a hotter, buffer version of himself while you had pretty much stayed the same. Hansol had flown to New York early in the summer with his mother and sister to spend time with his extended family as the situation between his mother and father worsened. Seungkwan had spent the majority of his break in Jeju with his own mother’s family, baking in the heat and dying of boredom. 

When Hansol had bounded up to Seungkwan two weeks ago when he arrived back in Seoul, Seungkwan could barely stop his jaw from dropping. Gone was the skinny, childish best friend he was so accustomed to staring at. In his place, a Hot Boy, grinning widely at Seungkwan and hugging Migyong tightly. Migyong held Hansol’s face in her hands, squishing his cheeks together as she exclaimed over how tall he had become. 

“Aigoo, Hansol! What a handsome, handsome man you’ve become! You’re taller than my Seungkwannie now!” 

At Migyong’s words, Seungkwan frantically scanned Hansol’s body up and down, and, with a gruesome feeling of dread, noticed his mother was right. Seungkwan looked tiny in comparison to this new giant Hansol had become. 

Like Seungkwan didn’t have enough to worry about – now Hansol was an incredibly good-looking boy, instead of a cute but mostly gawky teen? The universe was a sick, twisted place. 

He hesitantly placed his hands on his backside and swivelled in the mirror. Well, he thought again. Nothing to be done here. His arse was just fat, despite the weight Seungkwan had lost as he spent the summer swimming and playing lifeguard at a beach in Jeju. His older sister didn’t understand how embarrassed Seungkwan was about his butt. 

“Seungkwan sexy!” Miyoung would holler from her deck chair in the shade as he walked to sit next to her in his red lifeguard shorts. 

“People literally have surgery to have a butt like yours, Seungkwan. They pay lots of money for this!” Miyoung would say, slapping Seungkwan’s behind. He would blush, and whine at her. He just wanted to be skinny and fit in trousers normally. 

Miyoung had sat him down one summer day, after a long hot shift at the beach, and seriously asked if they needed to talk about body image and dieting. Miyoung was a feminist now, reading intersectional theory and becoming more articulate than she had ever been, and Seungkwan felt acutely seen by her concern. He hated it. 

Seungkwan also felt irrationally embarrassed that she was worried, and mad that she wouldn’t let Seungkwan squirm out of the conversation. She had left their grandmother’s house in Jeju to return back to her university housing in Seoul that evening, pressing some feminist books into Seungkwan’s hands, and making him promise to be kinder to himself, because, as she said, “Seungkwan, you are the most perfect, bestest boy ever to have existed and you need to believe me when I say that.” 

She kissed his forehead before she left, smacking the skin loudly with her lips like they used to do to one another to make each other laugh as kids. 

Seungkwan cried that night in bed, because he wasn’t sure he could feel more loved, or more undeserving of that love. 

So. Here we are. Being positive about himself as he gets ready for school. His phone buzzes on his desk, and he glances away from the mirror to see “Hansollie” pop up on his screen. 

He scrambles to grab his bag, and with one last look in the mirror, rushes from his bedroom and apartment, down the stairs to meet Hansol and Minka for their walk to school. Their last first day walk to school together. 

As he slams the lobby door shut, he heas Minka yell his name excitedly, and looks up to see Hansol and Minka walking across the grass to his apartment complex.

Seungkwan felt his mouth turn dry. Hansol was wearing his crumpled school shirt open and untucked over a white fitted t-shirt, his tie pushed into his front pocket. His slacks were slightly too long, and questionably clean, Seungkwan noticed, dragging in the dust as he walked towards Seungkwan. He had a backwards black cap over his shaggy hair, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing golden arms with veins running down into his big hands with long fingers. 

Okay, so. 

Hansol looked hot as fuck. This was… not great. For Seungkwan, personally. Redirect! His mind screamed. 

But! Seungkwan thought desperately, did Hansol look like a studious school student, ready to make the best first impression on the last first day of high school ever?

No! He did not! He looked like a hot, sexy delinquent, and that was simply Not Allowed. 

“Yah! Hansol! What is this!” Seungkwan exclaimed, flapping his hands at his best friend as he and Minka approached Seungkwan. 

“What is what?” Hansol says, bemused and slightly sleepy, and Seungkwan’s gut twists.

“This look! This unironed, wrinkled shirt and scuffed shoes! This general… general… demeanour!” Seungkwan stutters, flustered.

“Why would I need to iron my shirt?” Hansol asks, earnest in his confusion. Seungkwan can’t stop the soft gasp of shock that escapes his mouth, hand flying up to hold his cheek in horror. 

Minka raised her eyebrows, making eye contact with Seungkwan. 

“He’s a lost cause Seu. There is literally nothing you can do to make this better.” Seungkwan shook his head helplessly. 

Minka reached out and took Seungkwan’s hand, and then twirled herself around, showing off her pristine crisp white shirt, polished black shoes, and prim socks evenly pulled up her shins. 

“At least you have me, the best Chwe sibling! Look how well I’ve listened to your fashion advice,” Minka sung, pointing her shiny toes out accusatorily at Hansol. 

“Thank god for Minka,” Seungkwan said, with feeling. He gave Hansol one last glance over, mouth screwed up with distaste. And thirst. God, he was parched. He needed an Americano. He needed several.

But mostly distaste, okay. Like 90 percent distaste. 

Hansol just stood there, oversized in his big new body with a dopey, gummy grin on his face as he watched his two favourite people dunk on his taste in clothes. 

“I like what I like,” Hansol said, starting to walk along the street. 

“That’s the problem,” hissed Seungkwan, tugging Minka with him as she giggled in between Hansol and Seungkwan. 

After trading a series of increasingly savage insults about Hansol’s style, ending with Minka doubled over laughing as she walked into her school, Hansol and Seungkwan were alone for the short walk to their high school. 

“If you get a dress code violation for this, I won’t wait for your detention to be over to walk home with you,” Seungkwan warned, straightening his already straight tie. Hansol rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t need you to wait for me anyway,” he said, tugging his backpack up. “I have soccer practice on Monday and Wednesday afternoons now, so I’ll be coming home late.”

Seungkwan looked sharply up at Hansol. 

“You didn’t tell me this!” He said, pouting. “I have to pick Minka up by myself?” 

Hansol shook his head, offering Seungkwan a gummy worm from his packet. Seungkwan declined with a wrinkled nose. Imagine eating sugar this early, he thought, sipping on his newly acquired iced Americano.

“Nah, she’s going to stay in this after school program, so you can walk home without us for a change!” 

Oh. Seungkwan felt his footsteps falter. He had never walked home without a Chwe before. He felt his heart beat a little faster at the thought, could feel himself ready to become moody and mean towards Hansol as he fought to reject the change happening.

It was a classic Boo reaction, being mean when you can’t control the situation, one he inherited from his mother and sister, and then his grandmother and probably her grandmother. Probably all his Boo ancestors were ready and waiting in heaven to pettily tell Hansol his hair looked dumb that long. 

Seungkwan forced himself to focus on what Hansol was saying. Normal best friends didn’t get upset when they couldn’t walk home together, he reminded himself. Normal buddies actually liked some distance from stinky boys who don’t shower after working out for an hour with other stinky boys. Normal platonic guy pals could handle changes like this without freaking out.

Hansol was explaining what he thought Seungkwan could do with all the free time he would have now. 

“You could maybe even lifeguard at the apartment pool now that you have the Jeju experience! And get us in after dark sometimes,” he added, slyly glancing over to gauge Seungkwan’s reaction. 

Seungkwan hit Hansol in the arm, swatting at him multiple times. 

“Yah, Hansol! And risk getting caught and being banned from the pool? And bring shame on my poor mother, who works so hard only for her youngest son to disgrace the family name? I think not!” 

Hansol laughed and stuffed his mouth full of the remaining gummies. “Just a thought,” he forced out through his bulging cheeks, glucose-y drool escaping in thick droplets as he spoke.

Seungkwan looked to the high heavens. Dear ancient Boo ancestors, he thought to himself desperately, save me. Old Boos, this cannot be it. Please, Boos of the great beyond, he prayed, please send me a nice cute clean boy who is actually gay and loves organizing his schoolwork. Maybe can hospital-tuck his bedsheets. And has a great relationship with his mother, he added. 

The boys quickly separated when they arrived at school, their friends clamouring for their attention, tugging them in opposite directions. Hansol smiled brightly and waved goodbye at Seungkwan, his tie now slung, untied, around his neck. 

“You’re going to lose that before the end of the day!” Seungkwan shouted as a farewell, before being herded around the corner by the wriggling enthusiasm of Seokmin and Soonyoung. 

Hansol supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, he thought to himself, staring down at his backpack after soccer practice. Despite rummaging through the bag multiple times with increasing desperation, he could not find his tie anywhere. 

He groaned and slumped forward, burying his head in his schoolbooks haphazardly thrown over his bag. 

Of course, Seungkwan was right. When was Seungkwan ever wrong? His mother was going to kill him. Seungkwan was going to gloat so hard. He might even make Hansol tie his tie in a double Windsor knot every morning in punishment for losing it on the last first day of high school ever. 

It had been bad enough when Seungkwan had caught Hansol getting scolded by their calculus teacher in fourth period, their only class together, because of his unbuttoned, untucked shirt. Seungkwan’s eyes had gleamed with victory and he had smugly shared his notebook with Hansol, smirking at him when he sat back down, buttons hastily (and incorrectly) buttoned. Hansol, in retaliation, deliberately moved his elbow over the still wet ink, smudging blue across the neatly drawn equations. The offended squeak Seungkwan huffed out as he ripped his notebook back towards him, sulking, was a soothing balm to Hansol’s ego. 

Truth be told, Hansol was a bit bummed calculus was the only class in common. First and foremost because this mean calculus was the only class he had a solid chance of getting an A in – Hansol rarely moved beyond a B without Seungkwan sitting next to him, taking perfectly written notes during class, and then patiently explaining theories to Hansol after school, legs swinging as they sat by the pool watching Minka and doing homework together as the sun set. 

Secondly, he thought mulishly, it just wasn’t as fun to be in class without Seungkwan. Sometimes Seungkwan would just have to slightly turn his body towards Hansol’s, widen his eyes and tilt his head in an exasperated manner to get Hansol stifling his giggles. No one could imitate their teachers as good as Seungkwan, despite the best and most enthusiastic efforts of Soonyoung. 

Hansol frowned down at his pile of mess. Also, Seungkwan would have made sure Hansol didn’t lose his tie. 

Hansol heaved a deep sigh and started recklessly throwing his books, cleats, sweaty workout clothes, and loose sheets of paper back into his backpack, all together in a hodgepodge his mother would roll her eyes at him for. 

He heard a slightly shocked sound behind him, and he paused in his ruthless grab and stuff mission. He turned and saw Mingyu, eyes and mouth wide in horror. Hansol laughed. 

Mingyu, despite being the best-looking boy in the school, probably, and the tallest, and the fittest, was really only passionate about two things: cleaning and baking. He played soccer with Hansol, had for a long time, but was actually more of Seungkwan’s friend. Mingyu was loud and playful and loving, and even though he and Seungkwan argued constantly, he trailed after Seungkwan all the time like a little puppy. 

Hansol didn’t know why he wasn’t better friends with Mingyu. He just wasn’t.

“Hansol!” Mingyu whined. “That’s so gross! How can you do that to your belongings?”

Hansol levelled a Look at Mingyu. “You sound like Seungkwan,” he said, haughtily, zipping his bag closed. The zip got caught on some errant shirt fabric and after a few fruitless tugs Hansol just left the blue sleeve sailing in the wind. It’ll help air it out, he thinks to himself. 

“Ah, but that’s because sometimes even Seungkwan can talk sense,” said Mingyu, wagging his finger in Hansol’s face. “Where is Seungkwan anyway? Don’t you guys walk home together?”

Hansol shrugged on his backpack, started slowly leaving the locker room with Mingyu by his side. 

“Our schedules didn’t match up,” Hansol said. Mingyu looked a little sad at that, which Hansol didn’t quite understand. 

“So our Boo is just walking home by himself?” Mingyu asked, wringing his hands together. 

“Ah, yeah?” Hansol said. “He’s a fully grown man, he can handle it.”

Mingyu shook his head at Hansol, laughing. “Seungkwan, fully grown? He is my smallest, most tiny little friend.” 

Hansol joined in with Mingyu’s giggles. “Yeah, he, like, skipped the growth spurt, huh?”

Mingyu made a grabby motion with his hands. “He was cute before, but now that he stopped growing, I’m just like ahhhhh oh my godddd all the time!” 

Hansol was slightly taken aback by Mingyu’s affectionate words, but he didn’t have time to respond before Mingyu whacked his shoulder. “That’s my mother! I’ll see you tomorrow Chwe!” He jogged off towards the parking lot.

Hansol rubbed his shoulder. Mingyu truly had no idea how big he was. 

He frowned as he mulled over what Mingyu said. 

Hansol had definitely noticed the height difference when he got back from New York. Hansol was used to looking at Seungkwan directly in the eyes when they spoke, used to watching his round cheeks bunch up when he laughed, and used to easily walking arm in arm together on their next adventure. 

When Hansol had seen Seungkwan and his mother return from Jeju, he couldn’t stop the excitement spreading in his body, running towards the two to help unpack the car. He saw Seungkwan’s shocked look at his own physical changes, but Hansol had buried his face in Migyong’s neck, hiding his wide eyes as his brain stuttered to a halt, trying to comprehend the new Seungkwan standing before him.

Seungkwan was dressed as preppily as always, legs showcased in a pair of jean shorts, healthy and glowing skin accentuated by the light pink button-down shirt. But Seungkwan seemed to have shed the last remnants of his baby fat, his long legs flexing muscles built by hours of volleyball practice, his dainty wrists gently cradling his beloved iced Americano, his round cheeks sharp against his jawline. He looked like he had grown into himself. Like a real, elegant adult. 

Compared to Seungkwan, Hansol felt like a bumbling, oversized giant. He could crush Seungkwan when he hugged him, he thought wildly, as he vaguely heard Migyong chatter to him. 

When Seungkwan hugged Hansol, he smelt like sunscreen and body lotion and fresh cotton, and he nestled right into Hansol’s chest, head tucked under Hansol’s chin. Hansol’s arms could reach down and easily fit around Seungkwan’s waist. 

“Holy shit,” said Hansol, brain rebooting suddenly. “You’re so fucking short now.”

Seungkwan’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed, and he beat his fists against Hansol’s chest as Hansol trapped him in the hug. 

“God, why did I miss you?” Seungkwan whined. “You’re not nice to me at all.”

Hansol laughed, felt it reverberate in Seungkwan’s body. “I am the nicest to you,” he said, finally releasing Seungkwan. “I got you so many presents from New York.”

Seungkwan threw an unimpressed look Hansol’s way, reaching down to grab his oversized tote and his mother’s small travel suitcase. 

“Well, I don’t see the only thing I asked for, so I guess you aren’t that nice, huh?”

Hansol leant over to take the bags from Seungkwan. “Okay, as it turns out, Boo Seungkwan, bringing Beyoncé back to Seoul unwillingly is actually kidnapping and therefore illegal, and also I couldn’t find her.”

“Ah,” said Seungkwan, eyes glinting. “So you would have kidnapped Beyoncé for me, but you couldn’t find her and Jay and Blue?”

“Oh yeah,” said Hansol, pressing the elevator door button in front of him. “Totally willing for some international kidnapping charges to make you happy. Just couldn’t make it work.”

Seungkwan had raised one eyebrow at Hansol benevolently. “I guess I forgive you,” he said. “But only because you recognize that you should be willing to be arrested for Beyoncé.”

Hansol frowned now, as he trudged home alone. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why it bothered him that Mingyu was taller than Seungkwan, had noticed the height difference. I mean, Hansol thought to himself, literally Mingyu is taller than everyone, and also, Seungkwan is shorter than most guys. 

He shook his head, letting the thoughts fly free as he finally arrived back to the apartment complex. Seungkwan was sitting with Minka and his mother, Annie, by the pool. Seungkwan was telling some involved story, with sweeping hand gestures, and both Annie and Minka looked suitably enthralled. 

Hansol stopped for a second, watching the delicate path Seungkwan’s slender arms traced in the air. Seungkwan was bathed in sunlight as he told his story. Hansol considered taking a photo for him – this was the lighting Seungkwan loved best for his selfies. Seungkwan called it the golden hour. But then Minka spots Hansol and shrieks, beckoning him over. 

“You will never guess what happened to Seungkwannie today, Hansol! Never ever ever!” 

So Hansol walks over to his small family and best friend and pushes Mingyu from his mind. 

A few weeks into the school year and something weird was happening, Seungkwan was sure of it. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what was happening, but things just didn’t Feel Right. The vibes were off, Mercury was in retrograde, maybe he was becoming lactose intolerant. 

It started when Seungkwan asked Hansol if he was surprised Mingyu had quit soccer. Hansol looked over at him, sucking on the last bone of his fried chicken with a quizzical frown. 

“Mingyu quit soccer?” He said, reaching to steal a pickled radish from Seungkwan’s plate. Seungkwan narrowed his eyes and jerked his plate towards himself, out of Hansol’s reach. 

“What do you mean, Mingyu quit soccer? He’s literally on your team. How do you not know?” Hansol stabbed violently in the direction of the radishes with a chopstick. He missed, but he did manage to upset Seungkwan’s glass, slopping cold water across the table and down Seungkwan’s shirt. 

“Aish, Hansol, come on,” Minka complained. “That almost got on me.”

“Um, well, it totally got on me, so let’s focus on that instead huh?” said Seungkwan, standing to get a tea towel to pat himself dry. Hansol lunged for Seungkwan’s plate and stuffed the remaining radishes in his mouth. Minka looked pityingly at Hansol. 

“Desperate,” she mouthed at him. 

“Brat,” he mouthed back.

“Seu! Hansol called me a brat! And he ate your radish!”

Seungkwan let out a long-suffering sigh as he turned back to the table where both food and homework was spread out. 

“Hansol,” he said, severely. “How could you talk about Minka like that? She is wonderful and perfect and you should probably take some notes. Also, you greedy pig, I was saving those for the last mouthful.”

Minka stuck her tongue out at Hansol. Brat, he thought indulgently. He shrugged at Seungkwan, swallowing his bite thickly.

“Okay, but Mingyu quit soccer? I thought he was just sick.” Seungkwan looked despairingly at Hansol. 

“Sollie, he hasn’t been to practice over the last three weeks. How sick did you think he was?”

Hansol thought hard about the last three weeks. He hadn’t even really noticed Mingyu was gone, now that he considered things. He caught Seungkwan’s gaze, and Seungkwan rolled his eyes, correctly guessing what Hansol was thinking. 

“You’re hopeless,” he said. 

“Hopeless,” agreed Minka. 

Okay, all very cute and domestic, Seungkwan totally thinks so too, but that’s not the weird part. The weird part is what happens next. 

Minka says: “I like Mingyu. He’s fun to walk home with.” 

Hansol says: “What.” 

He looked at Minka dumbly, lips shining with grease from the fried chicken. 

“Mingyu,” Minka said slowly, insultingly. “He is fun. To walk. Back home with.”

“Why would Mingyu be walking home with you?” Hansol asked, confusion written plain across his face. Seungkwan took pity on him. Minka was having too much fun. 

“Well, since he doesn’t have soccer anymore, and since Minka’s after school program was cancelled this week, I walked Minka home and Mingyu walked home with us.” Seungkwan handed Hansol a napkin, gesturing to his face. Hansol takes the napkin but keeps it in his hand. 

There was a silence. It felt pregnant. Minka and Seungkwan exchanged bewildered glances. 

“Oh,” said Hansol, shortly. Minka tried to make things feel normal again by antagonising Hansol.

“Yeah, he’s a lot more fun than you, that’s for sure. He said he’ll make me some cookies next time! Remember when you tried to bake cookies for Mother’s Day last year and they all got burnt and turned into rocks? Remember how we threw them on the ground, and they didn’t even crack?” Minka laughs tenderly, her eyes glazing over in fond memory.

Seungkwan remembered. He had choked down one of the charcoal briquettes, Hansol’s eyes fixed solemnly on his face as he tried to swallow the endless wall of dry crumbs that made up the terrible cookies Hansol had made with all the pure love in his heart. Worth it, he vowed, as he gave a thumbs up and a shaky, blackened smile to Hansol, whose own ecstatic gummy grin erupted at Seungkwan’s reaction. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Hansol’s face turned thunderous, and he mutinously looked down at his musical theory homework. 

“Well, I guess Mingyu is just really cool then,” he mutters, picking back up his neglected pen. 

This was Weird Moment the First. 

Weird Moment the Second also somehow involved Mingyu. Seungkwan didn’t get it. Mingyu and Hansol had been friends for years now. He was surprised he was closer to Mingyu, actually. Mingyu and Hansol had more in common, both kinda artsy and kinda sporty and very popular with the general school population, but too kind and chill to ever act popular. 

Well, Hansol was chill. No one would ever call Mingyu chill. Maybe that was why he and Mingyu were good friends, Seungkwan realized belatedly.

Back to Weird Moment the Second, as Seungkwan was cataloguing them in his bullet journal. 

The location: the pool in their apartment complex (duh, it’s still the dregs of summer and Seungkwan gets overheated very easily) (He would not call himself sweaty, however. That’s just a gross description. You know who is a sweaty person, though, now that Seungkwan is thinking about these things? Soonyoung. Literally drips with sweat even in the dead of winter. Is that normal? Seungkwan puts an asterisk next to his careful list to remind himself to google excessive sweating later).

The actors: Seungkwan, Mingyu, Hansol (again, duh. These are apparently the main players). 

No Minka – she is hanging out with some age-appropriate friends, which Seungkwan thinks is important. Sometimes he worries that spending so much time with him and Hansol would make it hard for her to fit in with her peers. Then, inevitably, Hansol will make a fart joke, and Minka and Seungkwan will burst in laughter, and Seungkwan thinks well, probably nothing to worry about. 

The scene: Mingyu had walked home with Seungkwan again on a Wednesday after school, had then cajoled Seungkwan into swimming in the cool water. Seungkwan had blatantly stared at Mingyu’s shirtless torso as they lazily swum in the shallow end, just splashing water on Mingyu when he called Seungkwan out for his shameless ogling. 

“Yah, Kim Mingyu, you’re too hot and too built to pretend you don’t want to be looked at,” Seungkwan drawled, floating on his back to let the water wash over his face. Mingyu shoves Seungkwan under the water, preening and flexing ridiculously as he did so, causing Seungkwan to inhale a huge lungful of water as he chokes and laughs as he sinks below the waves. 

He retaliates, swimming directly into Mingyu’s stomach, forcing the gentle giant off his feet and back into the choppy water. 

A few struggles later, Seungkwan and Mingyu are both breathless and giggly, clutching onto one another, trying to grapple one another off balance and throw the other into a watery grave. 

Seungkwan eventually loses the war, with Mingyu’s strong arms locking Seungkwan tight against Mingyu’s stomach. Refusing to surrender, Seungkwan wiggles gracelessly in Mingyu’s arms, throwing his head back violently against Mingyu’s firm chest to try and gain some kind of control back. 

Then, Seungkwan notices Hansol standing by the pool fence, just watching at them wordlessly. 

“Hansol!” Seungkwan gasps. “Hansol, save me!” Mingyu looks up too, grinning at Hansol. 

“Come on in Chwe! I can take you both!” His arms tighten further around Seungkwan, and Seungkwan’s stomach makes a small swooping drop before settling again. Honestly, sometimes Seungkwan is annoyed at how hot all his friends are. It’s just like basic manners to be kind of ugly and also have bad personalities so that Seungkwan doesn’t get teeny baby crushes on his hot manly friends. 

He’s not as bad as Seokmin, however. You just had to smile at Seokmin and he was deep, deep in love with you. Seungkwan thought back to that tragic moment last spring when Seokmin had confessed his love to Seungkwan, before realising mid-confession that maybe he wasn’t in love with Seungkwan but had kept powering through because now he was terrified they couldn’t be friends anymore.

But, obviously, Seungkwan could relate. He let Seokmin down easy. And, mainly, it was really, really nice to have a friend to talk about boys with. 

Back to the pool.

Hansol doesn’t look impressed. He doesn’t look anything really. Hansol has an incredibly expressive face, micro expressions crossing quickly all the time. He gives big reactions to the smallest things, his eyes totally give him away any time he tries to hide his feelings, but right now, Seungkwan actually has no idea what Hansol is thinking.

“Hansol?” Seungkwan calls again, pressing his palms against Mingyu’s arms a bit more insistently. Hansol finally grins at them, waving jerkily. 

“Sorry Seungkwan, I’ve got to get started on homework.” He nods at Mingyu. “Have fun though, guys.” 

And that’s it. 

Hansol walks away and Seungkwan can’t put his finger on why he feels weird, why he both wants to stay pressed against Mingyu and is also desperate to get away from him. 

Can’t figure out why Hansol lied about having homework when he had excitedly texted Seungkwan two hours ago about watching the newest drama episode they had been waiting for. He and Mingyu half-heartedly wrestle in the pool a little longer before Mingyu’s mother arrives in her car to pick up her son, and Seungkwan walks slowly, dripping water on the footpath, back home.

Weird.

So. There’s your evidence for the messed-up vibes. Two separate incidents, both connected to Mingyu. 

Then, Hansol lets Minka do the heavy talking for the next two school day walks, on the way to and from school. Seungkwan lets it happen, sensing that Hansol was stewing in his feelings about something. Usually, you give Hansol the time and he comes and tells you what’s bothering him, but honestly, usually that lasts like an hour, maximum. Not two days.

Then! Hansol blows off plans with Seungkwan all weekend. Cancels their English Movie Night, which, honestly, Seungkwan is pissed about. English Movie Night happens every second week, with Seungkwan and Hansol alternating choosing American movies that they watch without subtitles to try and bring Seungkwan closer to fluently speaking English. It is their dream to travel to New York City together, see a Broadway show and stay with his family before they start university. Seungkwan refuses to pay money to see a show he can’t understand, however, and thus the birth of English Movie Night. Seungkwan exclusively picks musicals and tragic romances. Hansol usually picks weird art films and horror but can be convinced by a gross comedy option.

It usually takes around five hours to watch one film, Seungkwan constantly pressing pause and rewinding scenes, asking Hansol to translate, asking Hansol to say the harder English words out loud for him as Seungkwan slowly tests out the strange sounds on his tongue.

Seungkwan especially loves it when Annie watches the movies with them. He loves it when Annie takes over Hansol’s choice and they watch another Julia Roberts romantic comedy that ends with both Annie and Seungkwan weeping into Hansol’s shoulders, crying about the existence of true love and happiness in this cruel, cruel world as Hansol resignedly rubs their backs, nodding along at their monologues. 

He loves it when he can make Annie feel a little bit more at home, can show her how glad he is that she is here, with Seungkwan, in Seoul. 

But now, here we are, Sunday night, Seungkwan in a face mask and a coconut scented candle lit in his room, trying to puzzle out the mystifying situation he finds himself in. He tried calling Miyoung, but she’s out with her friends. He texted her a play by play of the suspect behaviour, but the only response she sent was all caps, YOU DID NOTHING WRONG, like she could just tell Seungkwan was close to spiralling about being a bad, terrible best friend. 

So, then. What do we think is happening? 

Seungkwan imagines he is a detective, but, looking down at his notes, he ruefully admits he doesn’t really have a lot going on. He pensively taps his purple gel pen against his lips. 

Maybe: Hansol got in a fight with Mingyu. 

Maybe: Hansol got in a fight with Mingyu and that’s why Mingyu quit soccer, but ALSO Hansol doesn’t want Seungkwan to know what happened, because Hansol knows Seungkwan and Mingyu are friends, but Hansol would also know that Seungkwan would drop anyone in a hot second if they upset Hansol. Maybe Hansol is being a selfless best friend, remaining silent in his suffering as Seungkwan cavorts with his worst enemy?? Seungkwan gasps out loud.

He feels sick. How could he, Seungkwan, do such a thing to Hansol? He is the worst best friend ever in existence, and he is counting Judas, from the bible, and Kristen, from season one of Vanderpump Rules, in his estimations. 

Wait. Let’s slow down Seungkwan, says a voice that sounds very similar to Miyoung’s.

Would Hansol do that? Would Hansol get into a massive, secret fight with Kim Mingyu, honestly a real life golden retriever, and somehow Seungkwan, best friends with Hansol and very good friends with Mingyu, would know literally nothing about the fight?

Seungkwan spins his pen between his fingers, thinking hard. Honestly, this doesn’t seem likely. 

What would Hansol and Mingyu even fight about? They never fight with anyone. They’re sweet and kind to literally everyone, it’s actually really annoying and sometimes Seungkwan has to gently nudge them towards being less charitable. 

Seungkwan stops his pen spinning. Actually, Mingyu and Hansol only ever argue with he, himself, Seungkwan. Huh. He pauses to consider this, and then shakes his head.

Focus, Seungkwan. He resumes spinning his pen. 

Just then, his phone buzzes with a text from Hansol. 

“hey can we talk” it reads. 

Seungkwan doesn’t even have time to be annoyed by the lapslock before his phone screen lights up, and Hansol is calling Seungkwan, holy shit. 

Seungkwan can count on one hand the number of times Hansol has actually called Seungkwan to “talk” out of the blue. Twice, he just wanted to force Seungkwan into listening to a new Frank Ocean song, trapping Seungkwan on the phone as they listened to the same song on repeat for over an hour. I mean, Seungkwan gets it, the man is very talented. But like, did he deserve a full hour of Seungkwan’s time for a single song? Seungkwan still hasn’t made up his mind. He tried to do the same thing with Hansol a week later with his favourite Adele ballad, but Hansol just laughed, said it had been out for years, and hung up on him. Rude.

Seungkwan swipes across, answering the phone. 

“Hansollie? What’s wrong?”

Hansol laughs a kind of wheezing laugh, like he had been caught out but didn’t want to admit it.

“Nothing!” He says vaguely. “Nothing is wrong. Does something need to be wrong for me to call?”

Seungkwan raises his eyebrow, lets the silence settle between them and answer for him.

“Well, okay, usually we don’t call, I guess.” Seungkwan nods firmly, forgetting Hansol can’t see him.

“I just, uh, I guess I just wanted to say…” Long pause here. Seungkwan narrows his eyes, lets it sit. Suffer, he thinks to himself.

Hansol takes a deep breath.

“You know, like, if you liked a boy, you know, you could tell me.”

Seungkwan’s heart drops. His soul leaves his body. His perfectly manicured eyebrows float off his forehead. 

He can’t speak. He can’t say anything. He can just hear a roaring in his ears, a slowly growing chorus repeating two words back to him, louder and louder, HE KNOWS HE KNOWS HE KNOWS.

“Seungkwan?” Hansol tries, hesitantly. “I mean, like, no pressure. I know we haven’t totally talked about this before, I guess because you haven’t actually liked any boys. I mean, not that you haven’t told me about liking boys. I just mean that you haven’t liked any real, actual boys. That you could date. I don’t really think Minho counts but maybe that’s wrong of me? Is that the wrong thing to say?”

Seungkwan’s sweating. Hansol doesn’t sound mad at Seungkwan, he sounds slightly wounded and a little confused. Is Hansol babbling? Is he using more words than strictly necessary to speak?

Seungkwan gurgles into the phone. 

Hansol takes in a deep breath, tries again. Oh my god, thinks Seungkwan. Chwe Vernon Hansol, pushing a conversation about feelings with Seungkwan. What is happening? What is happening? Has he died?

“I just… you know, if you like… if you li-like Mingyu, and you wanted to talk about it, with anyone, or like actually specifically with me, we can do that.”

Wait. Pause. What?

“What?” says Seungkwan, unhinging his jaw, bringing the phone up close to his face. “What did you say?”

“Um,” stutters Hansol, so clearly out of his depth. 

“Did you just ask if I like Kim MinGYU? Kim MINgyu? KIM Mingyu, who played soccer with you for four years?” Seungkwan can hear his voice growing higher, but he still feels like he’s existing outside of his own body. His heart isn’t even beating anymore. It’s just stopped, given up, can’t handle the emotions. 

“We-well, I mean, I thought, you know, that, uh,” Hansol mumbles. 

“How many times have I told you to enunciate more clearly?” Seungkwan snaps at Hansol. He feels wildly out of control. He feels the automatic Boo meanness response rising to the surface.

“I’m sorry! I just, I thought you liked Mingyu, but you didn’t feel like you could say anything! I wanted to be supportive!” Hansol bursts out, obviously getting a little annoyed that his generous gesture has been less than well received. 

Seungkwan feels like laughing hysterically. 

Let’s get this straight, everybody. 

Hansol, Seungkwan’s best friend of, like, literally forever, who Seungkwan had been in like with literally as soon as Seungkwan knew deep in his bones he liked dudes over girls, had been acting weird and squirrelly not because he was locked in a mortal fight with Kim Mingyu, but because Hansol, sweet, beautiful Hansol, thought that Boo Seungkwan was in love with Kim Mingyu, and he wanted to make sure that Seungkwan felt emotionally supported. Despite the fact that Hansol avoids emotions at all costs. 

No, Seungkwan wants to cry. Good lord, he thinks. 

“No, Hansol.” He says, his voice only wavering a small bit. “No, I do not like Mingyu. Is this why you haven’t been talking to me?”

Seungkwan tries to make his voice sound less reproachful, but he’s pretty sure he failed. 

“Um… I mean, I wouldn’t say I hadn’t been talking to you,” Hansol hedges. 

Seungkwan takes a deep, cleansing breath. He will not bring up English Movie Night, he will not. He can’t feel his fingers still, but he can feel the panic draining from his body. 

“Hansol, tomorrow you will arrive at my door with a fresh iced Americano, and we will laugh at you and your insane idea. Right now, I’m going to hang up on you because I need to get ready for bed.”

Hansol laughs awkwardly. Seungkwan softens his voice.

“Yah, you big idiot, I thought you and Mingyu had gotten into a big fight! I thought I was going to have to stop seeing Mingyu and cut off all contact never speak to him again!”

Hansol sighs. Seungkwan can feel the awkwardness radiating off him over the phone. “No, no, nothing like that. Just, I dunno, you guys seem close.”

“Well next time just talk to me, you dummy. Instead of crafting bizarre conspiracy theories!” Seungkwan notices his scribbles on multiple pages, and then firmly closes his journal with his free hand as he says this.

“I’m going now,” he warns. 

“Okay. Bye, see you tomorrow Seungkwan. Sorry. Again.”

“Uhuh,” chirps Seungkwan. “Sleep tight.” He hangs up the phone. Throws it across the room onto his bed. Surveys his journal. 

Goes over his shock, his panic at the thought of Hansol knowing Seungkwan liked him. Thinks about how Hansol was such a good friend to Seungkwan, even if he was an idiot. Thinks about how close he came to ruining the best friendship he could ever imagine having. 

“Right,” he says, slowly and deliberately. “Time to get over Hansol.”


End file.
